you wanna know why, I let her treat me like this?
why I let her talk as if she's the only one that exists?
because if she uses me, as free therapy, I don't have to feel
like im such a burden.
I say I don't like, how much I speak, and then I keep talking.
I don't get it either.
you tell me I don't bother you, and I don't have to shut up
but I'm worried that's not true, and all I do is fuck up.
she doesn't ask about me.
and I think I know why.
if she did I wouldn't stop talking.
and I don't think she wants to hear.
this is a stupid poem
it truly is
but I had to put these thoughts to rest
before they kill me.
I don't want to be a burden.
but I can't seem to stop
maybe next time she talks
I won't even respond.
then I'll be the least I can be
and maybe then she'll be happy.
YOU ARE READING
I Wrote This At Midnight
ŞiirI Wrote This At Midnight is a collection of poems I have and will write, that were most likely written late at night (or just feel very chaotic). As always, thank you for your support, I hope you enjoy :) Warning: The poems included are not censored...
